


Attraction

by BitKahuna



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Eventual Smut, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sherlock Holmes, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pansexual John Watson, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Sherlock is Not a Virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-08-14 00:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitKahuna/pseuds/BitKahuna
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is knowledgeable in almost every aspect of John's life, but is shocked to find he's made an error in his assumptions of John's sexuality.After uncovering his own feelings for the man, it was only natural that they entered a relationship. It was also only natural that they finally sleep together.





	1. The Difference Between Loving and In Love

When thinking back on the many fiends and murderers he's faced in his life, Sherlock Holmes has had very few intellectual equals. But when he truly thinks back on it, even fewer were genuinely able to surprise him.

Though it would take a lot of alcohol to admit it, the most caught off guard he’s ever been, was when he entered a room to find Irene Adler stark naked. So when he found himself in 221B, drinking by himself, he nearly laughed aloud at the memory. But another aspect of the memory became much more interesting to him. John's reaction.

He never thought it over before, but now that his mind was focused on it, it was actually quite a strange reaction for a healthy heterosexual man.

John didn't show an ounce of physical attraction. No smile, which would have been a bit inappropriate at the time. No sweaty palms, no signs of nervousness, no fidgeting, he didn't lick his lips or look at Adler's, no blush, no quickened breath, no subconscious attempt to fix his appearance, he didn't deepen his voice, or puff out his chest. In fact, thinking back on it, he remembered John's pupils didn't even dilate.

His only reactions were that of shock. That was all. Pure shock. No flicker of interest, no spark of lust, just surprise.

John should have had a greater reaction to seeing a nude woman.

It was quite strange.

He found himself spiraling into a rabbit hole of possibilities.

Sherlock knew for a fact that John’s had sex with multiple women. He also knew that no amount of fidelity can prevent someone from finding another person to be attractive. He briefly considered that John may have sight issues, but quickly dismissed that as well. There was no logical explanation to his question.

That’s when it finally dawned on him.

John didn’t react because somehow, he didn’t find Alder to be physically attractive. At all.

Though females weren’t exactly Sherlock’s area, he understood that Adler was average for a woman her age. But what she physically lacked, she made up for in personality and brains. That’s why her clients confused her for Aphrodite.

In their brief interaction, John only saw what was on the outside. Therefore, the shock, and John’s own moral compass, could have outweighed Adler’s beauty.

But still, it wasn’t as if he was only there for a second. He stood there, stunned, before leaving. He should have had time to register that he was physically attracted to Adler. But he wasn’t attracted to her. He wasn’t at all.

Sherlock huffed and checked the time, seeing John should be home any minute. He planned to question his friend the moment he walked in the door.

He recognized the footsteps that came upstairs and immediately stood up to greet John.

When he entered, John could tell Sherlock was tipsy. He cracked a smile as he hung up his coat. “Afternoon. When’d you become a day drunk?”

“Today. I have a serious question for you.”

John slowly nodded, unsure of where the conversation was about to go. “Yes?”

“Do you remember, uhm, Adler?”

“Irene Adler? Yea, hard to forget.” He could tell this was actually a series of questions that would then lead to a full conversation, so he took a seat across from Sherlock.

Sherlock sat back down and continued, still slightly drunk. “Well. When, that time when she was naked? Right? You saw her naked, and you were just, bloody shocked. But you didn’t think she was attractive. I could tell, not even a little bit, you weren’t physically attracted to her. But you date women, so how?”

John blinked a few times, grinning as he realized what Sherlock was asking him. “You want to know why I didn’t find Irene attractive?”

“Yes! Even if she was ugly as a frog, you’re a healthy heterosexual man, you should have had some reaction to a nude woman other than shock.”

John let out a laugh and he shook his head. “Sherlock, I’ve seen you deduce entire life stories, and you can’t figure this one out?”

“No! I’ve spent forty bloody minutes thinking about it!”

John laughed again. He quite enjoyed knowing something that Sherlock didn’t. “Start with the basics, Sherlock. What do you know about my sexuality?”

“You’re heterosexual! You’ve said that you don’t like men, and I know that you only date women.”

“Oh god. Neither of those are true.” He was certain that he’s never been so amused in his life.

Sherlock blinked a few times. “What?”

“I’ve only ever said that I’m not _gay_. And I’ve dated many different people who are all over the gender spectrum.”

“Impossible, I know the names of everyone you’ve dated.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Alex, Morgan, and Avery were all men. Taylor was gender-fluid and Angel didn’t want to be labeled as anything. In fact, I haven’t dated a woman in three years.” His voice changed. It lost it’s amusement and a trace of doubt took over. “Didn’t you notice my use of they/them pronouns? Me and Taylor dated for six months, certainly you would have heard. Or perhaps, the fact that I openly used the terms boyfriend or significant other. It isn’t like I only spoke about my girlfriends.” His lips moved once more but no words came out. He was genuinely dumbfounded a moment before he finally found words, but they sounded quite sad. “I know I didn’t talk about my relationships often, but .....” He sounded hurt, “did you not ever listen?”

Sherlock was in a state of shock. He didn’t know what to do or say for a moment. He felt himself quickly sobering up.

“Before ..... the fall ..... I was a very cold man. I didn’t listen to a lot of the things you said because I thought you’d eventually tire of me and leave. Afterwards I did listen more. But, my brain had a tendency to gloss over uninteresting things like pronouns or what term you used to describe your significant other. But I did listen. I remember Angel played the flute, Avery was from Greece, and you had an uncanny amount of sex with Morgan. Of course, you didn’t tell me that last bit, I deduced it.”

John felt a bit better after that. He went on to explain himself. “Sherlock, I’m pansexual. I think. Honestly, I’m not quite sure what I am. I think it’s okay that I don’t quite know. All I really know is that I’m attracted to everyone, but I’m mostly attracted to men, if that makes sense. During the time of Irene Adler, I was having a moment where I was really only interested in men. I don’t know why it happens, but sometimes it will. In fact, that’s when I was dating Morgan. So I didn’t find her attractive because, at the time, I wasn’t interested in women.”

Sherlock blinked a few times and leaned back in his seat. For some reason, he found himself happy that John was interested in men, but he didn’t know why.

He looked up to say something else, when he caught the sight of John’s tongue peaking out to moisten his lips. He also noticed dilated pupils.

He held back any signs of his surprise and felt as if he’d been slapped in the face. “You aren’t currently dating anyone, yes? From what I recall, Avery was your last relationship, ended four months ago.”

John nodded and his eyes briefly flickered to Sherlock’s lips as he spoke. “I’m completely single.”

Sherlock nodded. “Good. Wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing anything else. I’m going into my head a while. Need to reorganize.” He seemed slightly distracted as he spoke, as if he was already leaving the world around him.

John watched him go before taking a deep breath. He couldn’t believe he’d just come out to his own best friend, when he didn’t even realize he wasn’t in the closet. He stood up and went to make himself some tea.

Sherlock, meanwhile, was reviewing their interactions for the past few weeks. He typically didn’t pay much attention to John’s body language unless he was gauging his emotions or reactions. But now, he wished he’d been more curious. He wished he’d paid more attention. Because John has been showing subtle signs of attraction, but for some reason they were directed at Sherlock.

Sherlock was a very logical and reasonable man. He was very aware that he wasn’t conventionally attractive, but he knew how to use charisma to charm people in cases where it would be beneficial. He also knew that John _is_ conventionally attractive. Attractive enough that his age was no problem, though he was only in his early forties. Deep blue eyes, one laugh line deeper than the other from the crooked way he sniffles, small lips dusted over with a color exactly like a pink rose, the way they slowly turned red as he spoke or when he licked his lips, his charming smile, nice but not overbearing jawline, soft features that suited him perfectly, in fact, everything seemed to fit perfectly on his face so that nothing was too big or too small. He was so adorable that neither his age nor his height deterred people from hitting on him.

Sherlock shocked himself so hard that he nearly broke his concentration in his mind palace. Did he genuinely think John to be adorable?

Given that John is conventionally attractive, has a pleasing visage, a lovely voice, and he dressed nice, it shouldn’t be a surprise that he accidentally thought John was adorable. But that’s when Sherlock became quite fixated on John’s appearance. A sweet smile, warm eyes, just the right height, everything about John drew him in and lead him to see more and more beauty.

He stopped dead in his tracks, letting his train of thought crash and burn. He quickly backtracked and returned to analyzing John’s behaviors towards him. He was only a week away from catching up to the present day and he’d already determined that John likely found Sherlock to be somewhat attractive.

For lack of a better term, Sherlock understood that John was out of his league. John could do better and deserved better, so why did he find Sherlock to be attractive? The genius could not understand.

By the end of it, Sherlock concluded that John is attracted to him.

Out of curiosity, he went back even further. He wanted to find the moment it began.

He made it all the way back to their first case together. The very first crime scene. He’d just made his deductions and John complemented him. There he saw it. The first time John expressed attraction. Sherlock almost thought it was funny that John should find him attractive only after he showed his genius in a crime scene. He looked at Sherlock the way he should have looked at Irene. Originally, he had mistook the expression of attraction for one of amazement. So perhaps John always thought him attractive, but until recently, he hadn’t been expressing it so often.

He slowly left his mind palace and blinked as he looked around. He found John halfway asleep in his chair. He glanced at the time and saw it was nearly dinner.

“Takeaway?” He suggested.

John wasn’t even phased by his sudden resurgence into reality. “Already ordered.”

Sherlock gave a soft smile. He wasn’t sure what to do with this new information. John was attracted to him. So what? He could leave it be and never speak of it. But for some reason, he didn’t want to do that. All he knew was that there was something he wanted to do, he just couldn’t identify what it was. There was a strange sense of purpose in him, as if he had a mission. He thought a moment and considered that perhaps, he only wanted to tell John about his deduction, but he knew that wasn’t it. All that would do is embarrass John and potentially make their relationship awkward. Sherlock didn’t want that. But he did like the idea of talking about it. He was on the right track, but not exactly on the mark. Maybe he wanted to tell others? He wasn’t particularly the type to brag and John’s tastes weren’t anyone’s business. He found he also didn’t like that idea. Talking to John about it was something that remained in his mind when he tried to picture what it was he wanted.

Then he realized his heart was beating faster. He blinked and brought his hands together, subtly taking his own pulse. A minute later and he found it to be above average. Was he anxious? Worried? Stressed? No. It wasn’t any of that. Was it excitement? Yes. He realized he was excited. Excited about whatever it was that he had to do. But what did he have to do what was so positive?

He suddenly became aware of the small smile that still rested on his face. The smile that John caused with his cleverness. He had always thought John was quite clever. He was the only one who knew how to keep up with him. Even in the simple way he already knew Sherlock would want takeaway.

A small thought turned the smile into a frown.

He shouldn’t be happy about that.

Sherlock never liked the idea of someone knowing him so intimately. But John did. Not only did he know Sherlock, but he showed off his knowledge by ordering takeaway ahead of time. Sherlock shouldn’t be happy about that, he should be uncomfortable. But he wasn’t.

He furrowed his eyebrows and his eyes moved to stare at the floor as he focused more and more on his racing thoughts.

He liked that John knew him so well, it made him smile, he was excited that John found him attractive, it made his pulse quicken, he also found John to be physically attractive, going as far to accidentally think the man to be adorable. This was the evidence that laid before him. It made him wonder if he was experiencing attraction towards John. A physical _and_ emotional attraction.

Typically, Sherlock was very cold and analytical towards physical beauty. He could recognize it from a scientific standpoint in both masculine and feminine body types. But with John, he found himself pleased with the other’s appearance on a deeper level than what he was used to. He didn’t just recognize his beauty, his beauty excited him.

He let his eyes met John’s form, slowly raking over the other with the focus of a predator that was calculating an attack on it’s prey. He took in every detail and found that there was no inch of John that he found unattractive. Every part of the man before him was pleasing to the eye and that unnerved him. He’s never found someone to be so completely attractive before. To him, John had no real flaws, only little quirks that made him even more attractive. Like that stupid laughter line that was deeper than the other. That in particular he found to be overwhelmingly charming.

The fact that he found another person to be charming was enough to nearly send Sherlock into a panic. He’s never thought that of another person. But here he was, charmed by the appearance of John alone.

That only sent him down another rabbit hole. All the ways he was attracted to John’s personality. His maturity, confidence, sarcasm, calmness, brains, strength, vulnerabilities, it was all so wonderful to him.

It was then that he realized there was not one part of John that he wasn’t attracted to. For the first time in his life, Sherlock was absolutely enraptured by another person. It should scare him, he should be afraid. It would be easy if he was afraid, disgusted by himself, even angry that he’d let it happen. If he felt any of those things, he could fight it. He could put distance between them until he found a way to undo those unfamiliar emotions. He could undo it all until he only saw John as his friend again. He could fix everything. But that was utterly impossible because he was happy. He had neither qualm nor doubt.

John was utterly lost by the powerful expressions on Sherlock’s face.

It all began when he felt eyes on him. He glanced over and did a double-take when he realized that Sherlock was staring at him with a passionate yet calculated stare. He blinked in surprise and it took all his willpower for him not to squirm. It was an expression that only a few people had ever looked at him with, and it was usually followed by a wild night in bed. Truthfully, it was an expression he’d been hoping he would one day see Sherlock stare at him with, but the context was fuzzy. He’d be a lot more flattered if he knew why Sherlock was staring at him like that.

He felt and saw the eyes slowly rake up his body, soaking in every detail. John hadn’t felt this naked in a long time. He was utterly exposed.

He watched the expression change from intense, to a brief state of shock, relax into something loving, and then turn into something warm and happy. He’d never seen such expressions on Sherlock’s face and he thought it nothing short of beautiful.

He could only hope to know what was going on in Sherlock’s wonderful mind.

Sherlock blinked a few times and found himself freed from his deep thoughts. But as he tasted reality, another thought flashed in his head just before he left.

_’Do I love him?’_

Sherlock’s eyes widened and he stared at the floor in shock.

He looked up to meet John’s confused gaze. He knew he’d been caught and that John would question him. But now, there were far too many uncertainties for him to give an explanation.

Sherlock, though he’d never been in love and hadn’t really dated, had slept with a few people. But he knew that whatever he was feeling towards John was much deeper than anything he’s known before. He didn’t know how to deal with it.

“I need to make a phone call.” He announced as he quickly stood and went into his room, noticeably faster than his normal walking pace. He cursed himself for it, knowing that John noticed.

He estimated he had fifteen minutes before John would leave to pick up the food, and ten more before John would come knocking for him.

He had twenty-five minutes to get his shit together.

He pulled out his phone and thought a moment. Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade would mean well, but wouldn’t be of any practical help. Mycroft wasn’t an option. Perhaps Molly.

He dialed her number and sat down on the edge of his bed, even though he knew he would eventually start pacing around.

“Hello? Sherlock?”

“Yes, I-“ He cut himself off a moment. He was always a bit surprised when people knew it was him before he introduced himself. But he was slowly becoming used to the fact that he did have friends who saved his phone number. “I need your help.”

A bit of urgency filled Molly’s tone. “Is everything alright?”

“No! I like John!” It was then that he realized the tone of his voice carried a genuine fear.

There was a pause on the other line. “Oh. You like him? As in, a friendly way ..... or something more?”

Sherlock huffed. “Something more, you know this! If it was only friendly I wouldn’t’ve called. You’re intelligent, Molly, be more confident in your deductions.” His tone was borderline scolding.

Molly couldn’t help but to smile. He rarely did it, but when Sherlock complemented something, she knew it was genuine. Had he said this a few years ago, she may have giggled. But the ring on her finger and her fiancée sitting across from her lessened the effect it might have had. “When did you realize this?”

“A few minutes ago. After analyzing John’s behavior, I’ve come to realize John is physically attracted to me. Afterwards I accidentally uncovered that I feel the same way about him. It shouldn’t have meant anything to me, but it did, and that’s what lead me to see that I have a very strong emotional attachment to John.”

“I always assumed he fancied you, but I didn’t think I was right so I never said anything.”

“Molly! You should have told me! Stop doubting yourself!” Sherlock rose to his feet and began walking around his room. “The facts are that me and John are both physically attracted to each other, and I have very strong feelings for him.”

Molly nodded, knowing that this was the only way Sherlock was able to work through his emotions. He treated them like a case. “Can you describe those feelings?”

“Loving.” The word came out after a pause. It was something he’d wished he could swallow and never let out, something he wanted to keep locked away and hidden in the core of his body, but he knew that wouldn’t be helpful. So, regretfully, he let the word slowly slide out of his mouth.

“Loving?” Molly questioned. She grinned and felt an excitement bubble up inside of her.

Sherlock was the one who dragged Molly across a pub to talk to the lady that she was now engaged to marry. She felt that she owed him one. “Care to elaborate?”

Sherlock sighed. He sounded defeated. “Just to be clear, I most certainly am not in love with John. But I do have loving feelings for him, in fact, I may even love him.” The words were clouded by an air of uncertainty. As he heard himself speak, he realized his contradiction. “Alright, perhaps, I do love John. But certainly it must be as a brother or close friend. No. No. If it were that simple I wouldn’t have such a strong physical attraction to him, and said physical attraction wouldn’t elicit an emotional response in me.”

“Mind elaborating on the emotional response you get from John’s appearance?”

It was then that Molly’s betrothed mouthed the question, “I thought you were on the phone with Sherlock?”

“I am.” She mouthed back.

They then shared the excitement of Sherlock having potentially found love. They both thought he deserved it.

“When I look at John, my pulse quickens, I become elated, I’m drawn in, I get distracted, I would even say I struggle to think clearly. My loving feelings towards John seem to make themselves more apparent when I look at him and take the time to notice every lovely detail.” He caught himself just after confessing he thought John was lovely. “Oh god, I called him lovely! Molly, you wouldn’t mind killing me, would you?”

“Again? Not going to happen.” She referred to Sherlock’s infamous fall. “Sherlock, it seems you love John as more than a friend or brother. I would consider that to be a fact.”

“Finally! Confident in your deductions! And you’re entirely correct. I’m inclined to agree that I do love John. I love him very much. So. The facts have changed. John finds me physically attractive, and I have loving feelings for John.”

“Are you sure you aren’t _in love_ with John?”

“Of course not! Yes, I love John. But that doesn’t mean that I-“ He cut himself off as his eyes widened. Molly was right. “Oh god. I’m in love with John!”

Molly couldn’t help but to let out a laugh. “I’m so happy for you!”

Sherlock frowned. “Well I don’t quite see how! I’m having a crisis!”

“Sherlock, think about this reasonably. This could be a good thing.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you suggesting that I tell John how I feel, and attempt to enter a relationship with him?”

“Yes. It would be good for the both of you!”

“Molly, I know nothing of his feelings for me!”

“Perhaps you don’t, but we do know someone who might.” She suggested.

Sherlock audibly gasped. “Lestrade!” John’s second best friend and drinking buddy. If he was to confess his feelings for Sherlock to anyone, it would be Lestrade. “Molly, you’re an absolute genius!”

He hung up and checked the time. He had just under ten minutes to convince Lestrade to share John’s feelings.

He dialed the number and it rang twice before he picked up.

“Sherlock?” Lestrade was confused because there was no case, and Sherlock didn’t typically call just to chat, meaning something was probably wrong.

“Lestrade, there’s no time to waste! I’m in love with John and I have to know how he feels about me!” He demanded.

Lestrade froze where he sat at his desk and blinked a few times. “Why would I even kn-“

“Because you and John drink together and drunks can become very open, especially in the presence of a friend. Meaning that if John had any feelings for me, he would have told you and you alone. So. What has he said?”

Lestrade wanted to argue. He really did. He wanted to tell Sherlock that he didn’t know what he means, he wanted to change the subject, he wanted to deny it all, but he couldn’t. Sherlock was absolutely right and they both knew it. He’d promised John that everything they said while drunk, stayed between them. But quite honestly, if he stayed silent, then there was a good chance that nothing would ever happen between them. As their friend, Lestrade couldn’t allow that to happen.

“He’s said quite a few things.”

Sherlock was a bit surprised by how willing Lestrade was to talk about it.

“For about a year now he’s been struggling with his feelings for you. Said he fancied you but that he needs to get over it because he thought you’d never feel that way about him. Three days ago, he told me he’s almost certain that he loves you. Keep in mind that was the night he was hammered on six shots of tequila.”

Sherlock remembered that night. He’d spent most of it in the bathroom with John, sitting on the cold floor and talking him through his urges to puke. He spent four hours on the floor and got almost no sleep, not that he slept much anyways. He helped John change into his pajamas, brought him soda to settle his stomach, and he left a cold bottle of water and a pain reliever on his nightstand in the morning.

John apologized throughout the day for his drunkenness and how he was such a bother. Sherlock dismissed it all and said it was no problem, making sure to keep the lights low and not even touching his violin.

“Yesterday, just before I left work, I got a text from him saying he’s certain that loves you.”

Sherlock blinked and stopped pacing. He sat down on his bed. “He said that he didn’t think I would ever feel the same way about him?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Sherlock, you uh. Well. You don’t really date, and you’ve never expressed interest in anyone. John’s told me he suspects you’re aromantic and possibly asexual. I know it isn’t our business and we shouldn’t’ve been making assumptions, but he’s desperate for you. Really. Just, arse over tits. I honestly think he was only telling me because I’ve known you longer and he wanted me to convince him that he’s wrong. John really really cares for you. If you’re absolutely certain that you love him, then please, tell him.”

Sherlock took a deep breath. “Right. Thank you, Greg.”

Lestrade smiled. “No problem. Let me know how it goes.”

They both hung up and Sherlock let out a groan. He laid back on his bed and sighed. He was far too anxious to even attempt words so he resorted to stretching out and whining on his bed. It was strangely comforting.

Only a moment later and there was a knock at his door. “Sherlock? Off the phone yet? Your food’s going to get cold.”

A lazy smile found it’s way onto Sherlock’s face. He decided that he very much enjoyed the sound of John’s voice. “Yes. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Is everything alright?”

He should have expected this. Of course John would be suspicious. Of course he would have questions. After his display in the sitting room, it would be strange if John didn’t question him.

“Everything is fine, John.”

Everything wasn’t fine at all. It wasn’t bad either, but it wasn’t fine. Sherlock didn’t quite know how he felt. But somehow, among all his doubts and uncertainties, he knew everything would be alright.

He also knew that he couldn’t hide in his room forever.

He stood up, stretched once more, and went straight to his mirror. He knew there was no point, but he still felt the needless biological urge to fix his appearance before he presented himself to a potential mate. He straightened his clothes, fixed his hair, and felt like a complete idiot.

Nevertheless, he left his bedroom and returned to the sitting room.

Sherlock sat down and suddenly realized that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.


	2. Something New

There was a strange thrill in being alone with a lover. A feeling as if you’re the only two people in the world, as if no one and nothing else matters, a soundless and thoughtless motion that pulls two people into the arms of the other.

If Sherlock had less self-control, a shiver would have run up his spine.

He knew they were both in love, it was a powerful piece of knowledge. But only he knew. He wanted so badly to tell John how he felt. He wanted to make his pining a reality. But he feared he’d ruin everything if he tried to convey his thoughts. He took a deep breath and let the feeling of togetherness sink into his bones as if it were the last time.

Sherlock had made up his mind.

“Sherlock, what’s wrong?”

That caught him by surprise. He blinked a few times. “Pardon?” He was drowning in the atmosphere and couldn’t quite figure out how to recover from the accusation.

“You’re tapping your foot. You never tap your foot.”

Sherlock looked down and made it apparent that he hadn’t even known he was doing it. “Oh.” He thought it over a few seconds and came to a quick conclusion. "I actually have something to tell you.” He was going to finally come out as gay. He knew that John didn’t know. In fact, he was certain that only Mycroft and Molly knew, and maybe Mrs. Hudson had figured it out. “I’m gay.”

John’s lips parted but nothing came out. “Have you always known or.....?” John knew he wasn’t doing so well, but he considered this to be much more successful than how he reacted when his sister came out. All he did was stare at her for a good ten seconds, internally panicking, then congratulated her. His main concern was focusing all his energy on not acting excited about it.

“I’ve always known, I just never thought it important to mention. After this afternoon, I've come to realize that there’s no harm in bringing it up. I know most people speculate that I’m ace but I have dated and slept with multiple men. I just don’t do it very often, it hasn’t been recent, and, since I’ve entered this line of work, I haven’t had the time to consider it at all. I’m a married man, anyways.”

John cracked a smile. “Married to your work, right.” As disappointing as it was, it was still a bit funny. He realized he was quite stupid for letting himself get excited in the first place.

Sherlock saw it all. The hope and the destruction. He felt a bit bad for it. Perhaps that joke hadn’t been the most appropriate considering his intentions. “At least, I thought I was.” He hesitantly added.

John’s eyes immediately went to meet Sherlock’s. “What do you mean?” He felt himself get hopeful again, like an idiot.

“Well. You see, I’ve come to realize that .....” He trailed off. He had no idea how he was suppose to tell John how he felt. It was as if there was a rock in his chest, weighting him down and making it hard to breathe. He took a deep breath, trying to fill his lungs. “I’ve come to realize that in my line of work, being in a relationship would be the most foolish thing I could want. Few can keep up with me to begin with, even fewer would be interested in me, and almost no one would put their life on the line just for a relationship me. To find someone capable of all that would be nearly impossible.” He had absolutely no idea where he was going with this. He’d just begun talking and didn’t stop. He was rambling, he never rambled. He couldn’t believe he was so stupid. His brain wasn’t working and he had no idea how to improvise. “I don’t know what I’m talking about. What am I doing?” He realized that he hadn’t even answered the question that John asked, the question that he had intentionally prompted within the man.

“Even if I am married to my work, and even if a relationship would be difficult, it doesn’t matter, because I’ve fallen in love and that was the absolute worst decision I could have made!”

Finally. He got the words out.

John was in shock. His lips were parted but he had absolutely nothing to say. His mind was blank and he searched for a reaction. For a moment he felt absolutely no emotions, then, doubt rushed through him. He was afraid, afraid that some other man had stolen Sherlock’s heart while he was off pining.

“Who?” The word was soft and small, almost weak.

Sherlock forced himself to look John in his eyes. “You.” He felt his cheeks flush. “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

John felt like he’d been hit with cold water. He was frozen and covered in goosebumps. But he was happy. He was so happy. “You love me?”

“No. I’m _in love_ with you. There’s a difference.”

“I’m in love with you too.” John had never seen Sherlock blush, but here he was with light pink cheeks and a tear running down his face. “Are you alright?”

“I’m happy. But I’m also afraid. John, I really don’t have much experience with relationships. I’ll do something wrong and ruin it all.” Sherlock was unused to being vulnerable. But something about John made it a bit easier, and something about the situation made him want to be honest.

“This is an incredibly overused piece of advice, but communication really is the best. If there’s something you don’t like, tell me, if there’s something you want, tell me. You know I’m terrible with deductions, Sherlock, and I’m definitely no mind reader.”

Sherlock cracked a smile. “I know, but I’m terrible with words.”

“You aren’t. You’ve been doing fine this entire time.”

Sherlock sighed, feeling a bit better but still anxious. “Would you even be interested?”

“In a relationship? With you? Obviously! Sherlock, you are the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. Have you heard your voice? It’s the most alluring thing I’ve ever heard! I’m in love with you and I have been for weeks! You’re a wonderful person, Sherlock, of course I want a relationship with you.”

The excessive complementing made Sherlock’s cheeks turn a darker red. He crinkled up his nose in the most adorable way. “You did that on purpose.”

“Obviously, but I’ve never seen you blush before.”

Sherlock seemed to think a moment. “So, you’d like to try, then? I-I wouldn’t mind.”

John smiled. He knew Sherlock wasn’t the best at expressing his emotions. “For the sake of clarification, can we agree that we’d both like to be boyfriends?” He knew that’s what Sherlock was trying to say, but he wanted it to be verbally agreed on that they were on the same page.

Sherlock gave a soft smile at the word ‘boyfriends’. “Yes.”

“Right. Then you’re my boyfriend. Now eat before your dinner gets cold.”

Sherlock nodded with a smile still on his face and ate.

John was dumbstruck. Sherlock typically wasn’t so eager to comply, but if getting him flustered could make him eat then John was more than willing to go with it.

\- - - - -

In the days that followed not much changed between the two. Though John began constantly teasing Sherlock, and Sherlock had become much easier to fluster.

There wasn’t much of a change until a case came up. Lestrade was caught up with a killer who’d stabbed three seemingly random people in the past two days, and he worried the killer was only gaining momentum. Although he typically only called Sherlock for sophisticated serial killers, this was something he wanted to end asap, and he knew he only had a few hours before another body would turn up.

Sherlock and John went to the latest scene and they were on fire. Sherlock rattling off deductions while John assessed the damage.

“Angle of the stab wound means the killer’s shorter than the victim, most of the stabs were postmortem, and the killer has a bloody big knife.” That was all John had.

Sherlock, on the other hand, managed to deduce that the killer was female.

Three hours later and the two of them had a woman cornered in an alley. They kept their distance and John had his gun trained on her. The plan was to keep her there until Lestrade arrived. She did everything she could to try and bargain her freedom. Offering drugs, sex, and money. She turned to threats but had no leverage. At one point Sherlock sighed and called her boring. It made John laugh. They’d gotten so used to these situations that they were bold enough to make jokes.

It was all going well enough until the girl managed to slip away.

Chasing killers into the night with his boyfriend. Neither of them could have asked for more.

After a brief fight between Sherlock and the girl that ended with Sherlock nearly breaking his nose and John holding the girl at gunpoint, Lestrade caught up.

“Nice. You’ve added assault to your list of charges.” He was entirely unamused.

On their way home, John couldn’t resist poking fun at Sherlock. “I think you like getting beat up. You can’t fight, you’re shit at combat, but you always try.”

“Perhaps, but I’ll always have you to point your gun and end it for me. It’s really more of a distraction for you to grab it.”

John cracked a smile as they made it to entrance of 221 Baker Street. He stood in front of the door, but before he unlocked it, he turned around and looked up into Sherlock’s eyes. “I’d really like to kiss you.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did.” Sherlock couldn’t believe this was happening. Those small, rose pink lips, finally closing in on his.

Though John was the one pressed against the door, he was still fully in control of the kiss. He felt Sherlock’s eager and surprisingly warm lips envelop his, a bit hesitant, but eventually relaxing as he got used to the movements.

Sherlock gained a bit of confidence and his lips moved down to capture John’s bottom lip between his. He gave a gentle nip and John quickly pulled away.

“Watch yourself, unless you want me to find a way into your pants.” John warned, turning to unlock the door with a grin.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Never would have pegged you as a masochist.”

“Not a masochist, I just know how to have fun.” John joked as he held the door for Sherlock.

“I’ve noticed you’ve started doing this everywhere we go.”

John shrugged. “I do have some manners. Especially for my boyfriend.”

Sherlock smiled and entered, John following behind with a grin.

\- - - - -

Mycroft Holmes tended not to bother with the CCTV unless it was necessary.

Making sure his brother didn’t get injured while chasing down some criminal was an exception to this rule.

He watched the girl slip away, the chase, smirked at his brother getting roughed up a bit, and followed them all the way home. When they made it to the door, he was going to turn it off, until he saw that they weren’t going inside just yet. He froze with his hand on the button to turn off the monitors. He usually waited until they went inside, and they usually went inside immediately due to exhaustion, but they didn’t this time.

Instead, Mycroft watched the ex-army doctor lean in and kiss his brother. His eyes widened as the kiss went on and on. He was disgusted that anyone would want to kiss his brother. He did his best to refrain from gagging and then had to witness John opening the door for Sherlock.

It was sappy and gross.

Part of him wanted to sent a text asking why he wasn’t notified about their new relationship, but this was much bigger than some small life development, this was bigger than a simple text. With a smirk, he decided that this warranted a personal visit.


	3. Siblings

The very next morning, after the first eight hour sleep he’s had in years, Sherlock went into the sitting room to find the horrid sight of John making tea for Mycroft.

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock asked, entirely unamused.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Wondering why I wasn’t notified that you and Dr. Watson are in a relationship.”

Sherlock stared at his brother for all of three seconds. “You saw us kiss on the CCTV, didn’t you?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Well, now you know. So leave.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Sherlock, don’t be rude. That’s your brother and I’ve already made tea.” He said as he came out of the kitchen, setting the tea on the table. “Biscuits?” He offered.

Mycroft politely declined and picked up a cup of tea.

“He’s trying to lose weight.” Sherlock commented just to get under his brother’s skin.

John gave Mycroft a quick once over. “Looks average to me.”

“He isn’t. Tad overweight.”

John shrugged. “I can’t tell.”

Mycroft stared at John a moment as the doctor sat down and took his own cup of tea. He could tell that John was being completely honest, and somehow, he took flattery in the fact that a doctor honestly thought he looked average. “I’ve decided that I like John much more than I like you, Sherlock. Do be good to him.”

John smiled and stifled a chuckle while Sherlock rolled his eyes.

On the inside, Sherlock was overjoyed that Mycroft approved of he and John being together, but by the same token, nothing would change if he didn’t.

“Do keep this from mummy, won’t you?”

Mycroft silently nodded as he sipped his tea.

“Why?” John asked.

“She'll get excited about the relationship. She’ll insist on seeing us regularly, having us over for dinner, she’ll want you to call her mum, it’ll be a nightmare.”

“But I quite like your mum.” John said, referencing the time he had met her.

“I assumed you did, it’s obvious that you have issues with your own parents.”

That alone nearly made John choke on his tea.

“Sherlock.” Mycroft quietly scolded. “That isn’t the only reason he likes our mum. She is a very sociable and friendly person. Something we obviously didn’t inherit.”

John’s eyes were a bit wide and held quite a few emotions: fear, regret, and vulnerability were mixed in. His parents were obviously a touchy subject. “How long have you two known?”

“That you have issues with your parents? A few years now.” Mycroft answered.

John set his tea down and stared at the floor, unwilling to meet the eyes of the men that stared at him.

Sherlock shifted a bit in his seat. “I’m sorry, John. I shouldn’t have said that.”

John shook his head and closed his eyes. “It doesn’t matter.” He said nothing more, preferring to drink his tea and think. He’d never spoken much about his parents and that was for a reason. The only times he ever spoke about Harry was when Sherlock initiated the conversation.

Sherlock and Mycroft discussed a few family matters before he left, and after Sherlock walked him to the door, he quietly said, “Really, be good to him. John loves you more than anyone else ever will.”

When he returned, he decided to start up a small conversation with John, desperately trying to lighten the atmosphere of the room and make up for the distress he caused. “Do you think I’ll ever meet your sister?”

John blinked a few times. “H-Harry? You want to meet Harry?”

He nodded. “I don’t see why not. You’ve met all my family, so I might as well meet your sister. She’s in a program now, yes? For her alcoholism?”

“Yea. Three months sober.” He commented. “I’m really proud of her.”

“So, why don’t I meet her?”

John wanted to say, “Because she knows far too many embarrassing stories about me and has no filter.” It would be a valid excuse, it could put the meeting off for a while, but it was a lie. So instead, he half-mumbled the most honest excuse he could come up with, “I don’t know. It’s never come up before. If you want to, I could call her up.”

“Perfect. We can have dinner together.”

“Tonight?” John asked. “Bit short-notice, yea?”

“Not if she’s free. If she isn’t, try tomorrow.”

John looked over at Sherlock, who stared at him expectantly. Sherlock wanted him to do it then and there, seeing no point in waiting. “Fine.” He picked up his phone, dialing Harry’s number.

Sherlock was incredibly interested to see that she was second on his speed dial.

A melodic female voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, Harry.”

“John!” She sounded excited. “Oh, how have you been? You hardly ever text me, let alone call! I ought to kick your arse for that!”

John cracked a smile. “I know, I just might let you. Uh, you remember my friend, Sherlock?”

Friend. Not flatmate, friend. Harry knew him as John’s friend. That made an involuntary smile spread across Sherlock’s face.

“Yea. I also remember that one time you described him as tall, dark, and handsome. You finally sleep with him?”

John let out a coy chuckle. “No, no I didn’t. But, I am dating him now.”

“You’re dating him?! That’s awesome! I’m so happy for you!”

“I actually called, not only to tell you that, but also because he wants to meet you.” The sentence came out awkward, as if John wasn’t sure of what he was trying to say. “We wanted to know if you were free tonight, for dinner?”

Harry blinked a few times in shock. “Wow. I get a phone call and I can see you in person. How many years has it been, John?”

John was silent a moment, guilt rising up in him. “Six.” He sighed out the number. “I’m sorry, Harry. I really am. I want to make things better, I’ve always wanted to make it better.”

“I know. But my drinking made it hard, didn’t it?”

He could tell that Harry felt guilty too. “I think this’ll be good for us. We could ..... we.” He took a deep breath and tried once more to get his feelings out, “We could try again.”

It was obvious to Sherlock that the both of them loved and cared for each other. But they had issues. Issues that ran deeper than anything he had with Mycroft.

“Well, I think I’d like that.” Harry said, sounding hopeful. “Where?”

John made his choice. “Angelo’s.”

Sherlock was surprised that John felt the need to bring his sister into a place that was so sacred for them. But still, it spoke volumes to how much John wanted to make things better between them.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow when John hung up. “What happened between you two?”

John shook his head a bit, almost trying to dismiss it. “Oh, it’s nothing. All in the past.”

“If it were truly in the past, then why does it still affect you two today?”

John had no answer to that. “Sherlock, I don’t want to discuss this.”

Sherlock didn’t want to hurt John with his prying, but he was so curious. “It has something to do with your parents, I've figured that much. But, if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t ask.”

John should have expected Sherlock would already have made a deduction about it. But by the same token, he was pleasantly surprised that Sherlock was willing to drop it. “Thank you.”

The detective gave a nod and then furrowed his eyebrows. “You didn’t tell her what time to be there.” He pointed out.

“We eat dinner at the same time me and Harry used to growing up. She knows.”

Sherlock wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that, but again, he left it alone for John.

\- - - - -

Sherlock strolled into the sitting room in black pants and his maroon button-up that he knew John admired on him. There, he found John ready to go, but anxiously pacing around. “Are you alright?” He wasn’t sure how to approach the situation, but wanted to make John feel better.

“No, I’m not. I haven’t seen Harry in six years!”

“Do you not want to see her?”

“I do. I really do. I’ve missed her. I’m just scared. I don’t want to make everything even worse than it already is. I just want things to get better.”

Sherlock’s expression softened and he stepped forward. “You won’t make it worse. You’re good, John. Whatever you do, it’ll be the right thing.”

“How can you be so sure?” John was suddenly aware that his head was only to Sherlock’s chest.

“Because you're good.”

That was enough for John.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Angelo raised an eyebrow at their request for a table for three, but it wasn’t that unusual as they sometimes met clients or Lestrade at Angelo’s.

Sherlock watched as John’s eyes would occasionally flicker to the entrance while his foot tapped away. He was very anxious. He wanted to comfort John, but had no idea how. His anxiety came to a sudden halt when a blonde woman entered and made her way to their table. She had a small smile on her face, “Hey, John.”

John quickly stood to greet her, wrapping her in a hug. “Harry! Goodness, you’ve grown your hair out!”

Her hair was only halfway down her neck, not even touching her shoulders. There was a natural waviness to it that made Sherlock wonder what John would look like with longer hair. She wore a floral button-up that she tucked into the front of her dark jeans. It accentuated her proportions quite well and made her seem taller than John, even though she was a tad shorter.

Sherlock slowly stood up and shook her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Harry.”

They all sat down and Angelo took their drink orders.

“Well, I’ve heard quite a bit about you Sherl-“

John cut her off, “Whatever you’ve about to say, don’t bloody say it.”

“What? I was only going to mention how you’ve so eloquently described him to me! Tall, d-“

“Shut. The. Hell. Up.”

Sherlock was almost impressed by the way they seamlessly went from nervous strangers to brother and sister. It was obvious how close they once were, not just siblings, but friends. Whatever happened between them must not have been terribly personal because neither seemed uncomfortable or worried about offending the other in their taunts. He put on an amused smile as he watched them squabble.

“He told me about the first time you met, said you’re intelligence is _very_ cha-“

“I will kill you with a breadstick, I swear it.”

Sherlock expressed a brief shock. “You think my intelligence is ..... charming?”

John covered his face while Harry nodded, “Of course! You’re intelligence charmed him, still does. What else was it?” She asked John, expecting no reply, “That he’s the definition of tall, dark, and handsome? Oh, and that he looks so adorable doing experiments.”

“Wh- I,” Sherlock’s lips moved, desperately searching for words. “Adorable?!” He almost seemed indignant that anyone would use such a soft word to describe him while he does his work.

John let out a whine as his cheeks went red and he hid his face even further.

“Oh yes, something about the face you make when you concentrate.” Harry answered with a smug grin. “Shall I continue?”

“No!” John said at the same time as Sherlock’s, “Of course.”

The two men quickly looked each other in the eye. Sherlock could tell that John was absolutely flustered and he relished in the feeling. He’d never seen John like this before, especially when he was with a lover. He spoke about his dates and encounters as if he was always in control. But now, he wasn’t. Sherlock let a sly smirk take over his face as he looked back at Harry, “Do continue.”

“Gladly.” She shared his smirk. “He’s said your hair looks like dark chocolate, your eyes are electric blue and sea green, when he was plastered he said you have the complexion of a Renaissance painting with the body of David, he can wax poetic about you for hours! An absolute mess, he is.” She went as far as to playfully poke John as she teased him, “You think he’s so beautiful, don’t you?”

John was absolutely done with being picked on. He looked up and stared Sherlock dead in the eye as he said, “Most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”

Sherlock looked dumbfounded at such a blatant complement. It wasn’t the kind he was used to hearing from John, but he wasn’t backing down just yet. Neither of them wanted to be the coy one.

Harry let out a laugh, blissfully detached from their tension. “Alright alpha males, calm down.” She commented as Angelo came around to their their orders.

The dinner went excellently and Harry and John ended up reconnecting with the parting promise to talk more. On their journey home, Sherlock and John slowly slipped back into their teasing.

“You realize that you are beautiful, right?” John’s tone changed to something that was actually quite charming, but Sherlock recognized that he had done it on purpose.

He changed his own tone to something lower than normal, almost sultry. “I’m not blind, John. I see the way you look at me.” He paused a moment before adding, “It’s the same way I look at you.”

John raised an eyebrow in surprised as he looked up at his companion. “Is it?” He had the gall to reach over and hold Sherlock’s hand. “You think I look good?”

“Of course I do! You’re quite pleasantly short, your sweaters are delightful, one of your laughter lines is deeper than the other and I think it’s absolutely charming, something about the shape of your nose is also quite endearing. Scientifically speaking, you have a very appealing face. Everything fits perfectly, I can’t seem to describe just how charming it is. But I have a personal soft spot for your laughter lines and your eyes. They’re so gentle and such a deep blue, exactly like the ocean.” He spoke as if he were stating facts, but that made it all the more meaningful to John because it showed how truthful Sherlock was being.

John’s lips parted in shock and he looked up at his boyfriend with pink cheeks. “You think my sweaters are delightful?” He typically wore them out of comfort, not because he thought they impressed anyone.

“Of course! Everything about you is very delightful and homey. I know this doesn’t make much sense, but, you look like home.” He didn’t know how to put his feelings into words, but he did the best that he could.

John looked up at him with eyes that were filled with some emotion. “I-I look li-” he cut himself off and a grin broke out onto his face. He felt an indescribable joy. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Thank you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock was quite pleased with the way that he had charmed John. He was very versed in the art of flirting, but that was all an act for cases. He wanted everything with John to be real and genuine. So he decided to be honest about things. But he didn’t expect it would backfire when he said, “Lovely, now I’d appreciate if you didn’t challenge my dominance again.”

John had the audacity to let out a laugh. “Your dominance?!” He laughed out the words as if they were hilarious to him. “Sherlo- Oh fuck!” He let out another laugh, unable to finish his statement. “Sherlock, love, you are not the one in charge here.”

Sherlock scoffed, “I know you’re used to taking charge in your relationships, but that really isn’t necessary, and I’d hate to have to prove that.”

“Prove it?!” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Sherlock, you don’t want to do this.”

“Incorrect. I _know_ that I want to.”

John quirked an eyebrow and relented. “We’ll see when we get back to the flat.”

That was when Sherlock realized how fucked he was. They were only a few steps away from Sherlock having to unlock the flat and let them in, he had no time to plan for what he was going to do. Still, he unlocked the door and they made their way upstairs.

When they went up there, John sat in his usual chair and motioned to the sofa. “Have a seat, Sherlock. We ought to have a chat.”

Somehow, Sherlock felt as if he had done something wrong, but he wasn’t sure what it was. He cautiously took a seat and waited for John to tell him what was going on.

“I know we haven’t been together for very long, and I know that many of our quips tonight were only jokes, but we might as well have this chat now.” John began, looking at Sherlock with those warm and gentle eyes that took his nerves away. “Sexually speaking, what are you comfortable with? I don’t want to do something that would upset you.”

Sherlock was frozen. His brain had shut down from such an unexpected question. His mouth began responding before he even knew what he was saying, “Of all the times I’ve had sex, I don’t think that any of them have actually cared about me. No one has ever asked me that.” He saw a bit of concern fill John’s gaze, but he answered anyways. “Don’t call me anything derogatory, please.” He was visibly awkward. He looked around, his shoulders were stiff, and he was leaned forward with his hands clasped together on his lap, almost as if he were protecting himself. “Forgive me, I’ve never had a conversation like this before. I’m not a fan of vulnerability.” He spoke the word as if it were a disease.

John understood and gave him a soft smile. “That’s okay, I’m not judging you. Anything else?”

Sherlock still couldn’t meet John’s eye. “Don’t hurt me.”

John was almost in awe of how soft the normally stoic man really was. He couldn’t help the way his smile widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I think that’s all.”

John couldn’t help a small smirk as he thought of his response. “Sherlock, I’m not a very kinky person, but don’t say that’s all if that isn’t all. If you aren’t careful, two weeks from now I might wake you up with your prick balls-deep in my mouth.”

Sherlock’s eyes shot up to meet John, wide with shock. His cheeks had become scarlet. His throat closed on nothing in his panic, causing him to be begin to cough, choking on air. “What?!” He wheezed out the word between coughs.

John let out a laugh at Sherlock’s reaction. “Forgive me, but I’m only being honest. It’s my favorite way to wake someone up, so I sincerely hope you’re a heavy sleeper. That just gives me all the more reason to do it.” He winked.

Sherlock’s lips parted in shock and he couldn’t stop a small whimper from making it’s way out. “Y-You devil!” He had no idea how to respond to that.

“So what I’m hearing is, that doesn’t cross a line for you?” John prompted, but noticed his embarrassed Sherlock was. “Should I take your silence as a yes?”

Sherlock nodded.

John grinned, “Excellent.”

After a huff, Sherlock turned the tables, “And you? Any limitations?”

John gave a nod. “Three. Don’t choke me, nothing in public, and don’t hurt me unless I ask for it.”

Sherlock blinked a few times in surprise at the third one. He ultimately decided not to comment on it. “I’d like to second the no choking.”

“Right then, that was easy.” He leaned forward with a devilish smirk. “Gives me plenty to work with.” With a wink at the end, John made those gorgeous cheekbones of Sherlock’s burn red, and a grin spread across John's face. “Told you, I’m in charge.”

“No, you flirted with me and it worked. That doesn’t denote a hierarchy.”

“It will when I wake you up in two weeks, moaning my name.”

His face burned a darker red. “Git.”


	4. You Feel Like Home

Since their conversation on sex, Sherlock and John’s relationship actually remained quite tame. They’d done nothing besides some passionate kissing, but even that took about a month for Sherlock to fully warm up to.

Now he’s gotten so confident he’ll walk right up to John and kiss his breath away just for the satisfaction of doing it.

Usually, John would be making tea and Sherlock would come up behind him, spin him around, and kiss him until he was flustered, then pull away with a smug smirk on his face. He enjoyed being able to do that to John. To kiss him until his body heated up, his pulse quickened, and he shifted his hips in a way that let Sherlock know he was about to have a problem.

It took two days for John to realize this and he wasn’t going to let Sherlock get away with it.

So the third morning, when Sherlock spun him away from the kettle to kiss him, he leaned back in decline. His hips rested against against the counter and he quirked an eyebrow. “You’re doing it on purpose.” He accused.

“Doing what on purpose?” Sherlock spoke with a playful tone that told John they were on the exact same page.

“You kiss me till I’m turned on.”

“No, I kiss you until you’re just about to be turned on. Anything that happens after I pull away is your own fault.”

John let out a chuckle and tilted his head. “But you’re teasing me on purpose, because you know that after you pull away, I’ll be turned on.”

Sherlock relented and gave a sly smile, “Agreed. Now are you going to let me kiss you, or not?”

John wasn’t have any of that. He grabbed Sherlock’s hips and spun them around so Sherlock rested against the counter. “I’ll kiss you like you do to me, and we’ll see how you like it. How’s that sound?”

Sherlock had the gall to let a laugh slip. “Sure, go ahead. Don’t be disappointed when you find my self-control to b-“

He was cut off by John pressing his lips to Sherlock’s. He was a very eager kisser, but John took it slow, letting the tip of his tongue trace the bottom of Sherlock’s lower lip.

The taller man let out a soft groan and wrapped his arms around John’s waist, pulling him close.

John wanted to pull away to make a comment about Sherlock’s “self-control”, but couldn’t make himself leave those soft lips. He was held captive. He traced the underside of Sherlock’s lower lip again before giving a gentle nip.

Sherlock pulled him even closer and John couldn’t stop a chuckle from escaping his lips. “Excited?” He asked as they pressed together.

“Of course I am.” The taller man said before pulling John back in for another kiss.

John let himself be pulled into the kiss before parting again to comment, “And what of that self-control you mentioned?”

“I was bluffing, obviously. Now kiss me.”

Sherlock tugged at John’s hips and the blonde chuckled, “Oh, I don’t know. I think this is the part where you’d leave me alone.”

“Perhaps, but you’re just as excited as me. You don’t want to leave.”

John cracked a smile, “You’re right, I don’t. But I also don’t want to do something you aren’t ready for.”

Sherlock scoffed, “John, I’ve told you my limitations. I can handle anything.”

John’s entire expression changed from playful to serious. “Promise you’ll stop me if you get uncomfortable.”

“I swear it.”

There was a twinkle of curiosity in John’s eyes, so he decided to take a shot with one last question. “Why are you so eager to be with me? I thought your body was just a vessel.”

In truth, it was something about John's gentle nature enticed him. The few times he’s had sex were when he was high, while he got high, or to get drugs. It was sloppy and quick, with no concern for him, and it was pretty terrible. But John was so warm and sweet. He wasn’t a cold and damp back alley, he wasn’t the filth of a bathroom stall, he wasn’t the cold-sweats of a high, he wasn’t the shaky sickness of a junkie, he wasn’t the dirty hands that grabbed at his flesh, or a walk of shame. John was everything he never had.

Sherlock’s emotional capacity was as any other human’s, but he was still very hesitant to express it. Instead of giving a full explanation he kept his point short and simple, “Because you don’t hurt me. You feel like home.”

John’s heart nearly shattered, but it also swelled for how sweet Sherlock’s words were. “You’re so beautiful, Sherlock. Everything about you is so lovely.” His eyes flickered to Sherlock’s neck for only a moment, but the taller man understood his intention and nodded, “Go on.”

John leaned in and watched the pink of Sherlock’s cheekbones get a bit darker as he closed in. Gorgeous. He placed a few soft kisses over the area and felt a shiver run through the body in his arms. He cracked a smile and held him tighter to keep him steady. He started below Sherlock’s ear and slowly kissed down. As he made his way back up, his lips parted, letting his tongue peak out to trace the flesh before he pulled away with a soft suck, moving to plant another kiss above the last. He trailed his kisses all across Sherlock’s neck, intending to become acquainted with every inch of skin.

Sherlock let a soft whine escape and he shifted, realizing he was trapped between the counter and John. He decided to voice his slight concerns, though his tone had become breathy, “Uh, John? I-I feel I must remind you that I haven’t had sex in nearly five years, a-and, ah, it was never very good, and I don’t really masturbate either.” Not only was he sensitive to pleasure, but his body craved it.

John understood and pulled away with a wicked grin. “You’re a ticking time-bomb. You’re all pent up, but I could help you find release.” He offered.

Sherlock’s lips parted in shock and his face went an even darker red than before. “Y-You would do that?”

“Of course. I love you, I’d do anything for you.”

He seemed to think over the offer for a moment before making his decision. “I’d like that.”

John’s eyes seemed to light up with an innocent excitement. It was as if it were an honor for Sherlock to allow him to do something like that. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation or doubt.

John gave a soft smile and pressed their bodies together again. “Alright then.” He set his hands on Sherlock’s waist, gentle and warm. “Any preference?” Now his deep blue eyes were twinkling with an excitement that Sherlock only ever saw after snogging John silly.

“No. Do as you please.” Truthfully, he found it hard to think. He had been forced out of his head and he was living in the moment. It was quite a vulnerable state of being.

John seemed to think a moment before coming to a decision. “Let’s go to your room.” He said as he took Sherlock by the hand and lead him through their flat. “It’ll be easier for the both of us if you’re lying down.”

Sherlock noticed how he paused to think before answering the question, he couldn't help but to question it as he was lead to his room. John's answer warmed his heart, "Because as much as I would like to have you in my bed, I know you haven't done this in a while and your experiences aren't the best. I want to make sure you're comfortable."

Sherlock grinned the entire way to his room but felt a nervousness rush through him when the door closed behind them.

John’s hands rested on his waist as he pulled his boyfriend close. “How far do you want to take this, Sherlock? We can do as much or as little as you want.” He offered.

Though he hardly fooled with the affairs of the heart, Sherlock did have some standards given his posh upbringing. “I wouldn’t like to go all the way when we’ve only dated a few months. I’ll do anything else.” He was quite eager to get started. He was throbbing in his pants and couldn’t wait to find release.

Without missing a beat, a wicked grin spread across John’s face as some lewd ideas crossed his mind. “That leaves so many options.” He said as his hands drifted up to undo the buttons of Sherlock’s shirt. “I’m going to enjoy this. I want to take my time with you.” He commented as his lover’s shirt slipped off. He stepped forward and pressed his lips back to where they once sat on Sherlock’s neck. He picked up as if he had never stopped. His lips moved down and embraced Sherlock’s collarbones, giving gentle nips that were so unlike the harsh bites Sherlock had once known.

John was everything Sherlock might have enjoyed about sex, but honeyed over and made so much sweeter.

Sherlock let out a soft groan and his breathing picked up as he enjoyed John’s mouth. Those lips parted and traveled down his body. They explored his chest and gave his nipples a few experimental licks. An involuntary shiver ran through him and a hand reached up to spread his fingers through John’s hair, getting a light grip. He could feel the glee radiating off the shorter man from the reaction he got. He played with the nipple a bit longer before kissing down even further.

He got halfway to Sherlock’s navel before pulling away. “You need to lay down.” He said as he backed Sherlock onto his bed. He got Sherlock to lie down and knelt beside to him. “Perfect.” He commented as he let his hands hold Sherlock’s hips. He looked down as the pale torso below him. It was slightly muscular though soft and undefined. “Christ, you’re beautiful.” He complemented as he reattached his mouth to Sherlock’s body, kissing down in a sweet trail.

Sherlock flushed at the unfamiliar complement. He wasn’t used to his appearance being praised. He squirmed at the kisses that vaguely tickled and felt John’s hands travel to his waist, pulling his trousers off and revealing the strain.

John smirked up at Sherlock as he leaned down, keeping eye contact while pressing a kiss to the clothed tip.

Sherlock whined and shifted his hips. “Don’t tease me like that.”

John raised an eyebrow, both amused and pleased. “Pardon?”

“Don’t play innocent, either.”

A soft chuckle left John’s mouth as he tugged off the last of Sherlock’s clothes.

The cold air made him shiver and he looked down at John nervously. His length was perfectly average, pale, a pinkish-brown tip, and had only a few visible veins.

John blinked in surprise and he tilted his head as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Apologies. I just don’t think I’ve ever seen a cock this gorgeous before.”

Sherlock nearly chocked on his own inhale at the complement. He couldn’t believe John had just said that.

The shorter man let out a chuckle and he bit his lip, seeming to think about what he wanted to do. “I’m definitely waking you up with that thing in my mouth. But for now, turn over.” He instructed.

Sherlock did as he was told and moved to lay on his stomach, getting an idea as to where this was going.

“Here, prop your hips up on this.” John said as he handed Sherlock a pillow from the head of his bed.

Sherlock took it in his hand and almost immediately understood what John wanted to do. “You can’t be serious.” His face flushed, cheeks and shoulders going scarlet.

John just smirked up at him with an unwavering confidence. “Try not to be too loud, love.” He reminded Sherlock of Mrs. Hudson’s presence downstairs with a charming wink.

He slowly moved to set the pillow under his hips and shifted as he tried to get comfortable. With the angle of his hips, his cheeks didn’t touch. He was slightly parted and he felt as if he was flashing John, it was entirely indecent. He turned his head to the side while his fingers fiddled with the sheets.

John’s thumbs spread Sherlock a bit wider and he smirked as he looked down at the prize before him. He couldn’t help but to comment on what he saw, “You cleaned yourself up?”

“Our sexual tension was building and bound to crash either today or tomorrow. I wanted to be prepared.” He seemed a bit embarrassed, and he was. He was basically confessing that he hoped John would fuck him today or tomorrow.

John grinned and leaned down, “You’re so sweet.” He knew that was a complement Sherlock had likely never heard. He leaned in and gently licked around the entrance, wanting to tease him. He could feel Sherlock’s hips shifting under his skin, trying not to squirm, though he wanted to. He was eager for John’s tongue.

An involuntary shiver ran up Sherlock’s spine as the pointed tip of John’s tongue flicked over his entrance. An open mouth pressed against his skin, covering his hole. His hips jerked without willing them to. He was suddenly reminded of why he didn’t care for sex. He couldn’t think. He was forced out of his head and at the mercy of a body that didn’t listen to him, it listened to John. John’s pleasure is what moved him. That’s also why he was so eager for this. He didn’t care if he lost control, so long as he was with John, he was safe and comfortable.

He let out a broken whimper and gently tilted his hips back, wanting to push himself just a tad closer to John’s mouth. The pointed tongue began to flick up and down his entrance, the tip gently entering him with each flick. His back arched and he scrunched up his face as he tried to hold back his noises. He was already panting. At some point his hands had begun gripping the sheets for dear life, but he didn’t even realize it until now. His body twisted at the pleasure that rushed up his spine, unceasing and strengthening with each flick.

Sherlock wasn’t used to feeling so good and he definitely wasn’t used to being the center of such intimate attention. He almost wasn’t sure what to make of it all. He wanted to keep his composure, but in the thrills that rushed through him, he realized he didn’t have to. John was safety, John was home. He could do anything he wanted. He let a whine roll from the back of his throat and pushed his hips back as the liberating realization.

John smirked as Sherlock moved his hips. He slipped the tip of his tongue into Sherlock and fucked him with it. The tip moved in and out as fast as it could, attacking the nerve endings just inside Sherlock’s entrance.

Sherlock let out a soft cry as he rocked his hips back and forth. Such a sensitive part of himself was practically being massaged. He couldn’t resist the things John did with his tongue. He abandoned pride, letting his body reach for the pleasure he craved. The movements also allowed his cock to rub against he pillow beneath him. A low groan rolled out of his throat as both ends of his hips were washed in pleasure. It felt much more intense than what he was used to, but that only excited him.

The sweet pleasure had torn down his composure. He moved his hips shamelessly. He needed this. “Deeper.” He didn’t realize his own shaky and guttural command until a moment later when the tongue that rested just inside of him began to vibrate with a chuckle. It made him whimper.

John couldn’t help but to chuckle at the request. He let his tongue slide in a bit deeper, keeping it pointed as Sherlock hasn’t been touched here in a while. He let it squirm and twist around to keep his lover stimulated, listening to the moans and gasps above him. He had it halfway in and began gently pumping and wriggling it.

Sherlock groaned and twisted, throwing his own hips back in an eager frenzy. It hardly fazed him to take the tongue in deeper. He let out a few whines at the pleasure.

John kept his face pressed against Sherlock and found himself struggling with his own desires. His tongue was tightened to a point, making it smaller and easier to take. He wanted to shove the entire relaxed muscle into Sherlock. He wanted to make the man above him wail and tremble. He decided to test the waters by slowly relaxing his tongue, hardly giving Sherlock a stretch.

Sherlock squirmed and arched his back as he felt what John was doing. Though he was far too preoccupied to think, he could tell what John wanted to do. “Deeper John, I can take it.”

He let out a soft groan at the encouragement, making Sherlock tense at the slight vibration. He steadied the hips in his hands and shoved his tongue in.

The taller man let out a soft cry, rolling his hips back, eagerly fucking himself on the other’s tongue. He knew what he wanted and he was prepared to take it. His groans were long and low, rolling out of the back of his throat and bouncing off the walls. He wasn’t even trying to hold back anymore. He felt good and that’s all that mattered to him.

John felt a shiver run through his own body. Those rolling hips made him freeze in a momentary shock. He was both amazed and proud at how Sherlock took what he wanted, but it also made him feel strangely used. As if he was only there for Sherlock’s pleasure, and that turned him on even more. His tongue was pumping in as fast and as deep as he could move in. He heard Sherlock’s voice get a bit more frantic as the pleasure seemed to build inside of him. He smirked to himself and pulled away.

When Sherlock turned to glare at him for stopping, he only grinned down at him. “Don’t worry, I was only wondering where you kept your lube?” He knew for a fact that Sherlock owned lube. He couldn’t expect dealers to have it when he went off all those years ago.

Sherlock looked at the bedside drawers with an ashamed expression.

“Don’t feel guilty. That was long ago.” John reminded as he moved to get the lube. “I’d like to think a night with me might be worth the lube in your room.” Not to erase Sherlock’s struggle. But after all he’s been through, every decision he’s made has led up to this moment. He wanted it to be worth it.

“You’re worth anything.” Sherlock said softly as he watched John lube his fingers and warm it up a bit in his hand.

John blinked a few times and looked down at Sherlock, surprised. But he couldn’t help the way his cheeks went pink. A small smile graced his face, and when he went to put the lube back, he opened the drawer wider than before and caught a flash of something else in there. "Handcuffs?!" He opened the drawer all the way to find the lube and a single pair of handcuffs were it's only occupants.

Sherlock smirked at the way John's pitch went up when he spoke. "I stole them from Donovan." He shifted when he felt a fingertip press against his entrance, but that didn't deter his intentions. "Want me to use them on you?" He offered, hearing a soft gasp of shock behind him.

John flushed and he pushed the tip of his finger inside, slowly moving it around the entrance that he had carefully licked open. He pressed and twisted his finger to tease the nerves that rested just inside of him. "Have you already forgotten our conversation after you met my sister. I'm the top, not you." He slipped his finger in a bit deeper and managed to get it in about halfway before he met resistance. He gently pumped his finger to start working it deeper, already pressing a second fingertip to his entrance.

He groaned and shifted from where he laid. He pushed his hips back and felt his inner thighs occasionally shake. He bit his lip and shivered in the wake of a second finger, waiting to enter him. "Don't act like it doesn't turn you on. You want me to do it. You want to be helpless." His voice was even lower than normal and flooded with the pleasure he felt.

"Sherlock." John warned as he slipped his finger out and then pressed two fingertips just inside of him, teasing his rim.

A high-pitched whimper fell from Sherlock's lips as he rocked his hips back, trying desperately to get the fingers in deeper. "If you don't give me what I need _right now_, you'll wake up naked and handcuffed to the bed."

John's eyes widened and his face went red. "I can't believe you would threaten me like that." A smirk twisted onto his face. "Stop or I'll shut you up."

He had the gall to let out a laugh, but quickly found that to be a mistake. His laughter made him tighten around those fingers that were still slowly massaging the inside of his rim. He groaned at the increased pressure and he could feel the pride radiating off of John. "Nevertheless, you of all people should know I'm impossible to shut up."

John only raised an eyebrow, "Well I'd say that at the moment, I have a bit of an upper hand."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, deciding to continue to describe what he would do to John. "I'll handcuff you to the bed in your sleep, then I'll wake you u-" He was cut off by a moan as his back sharply arched. John's fingers were being furiously worked into him. He decided to use that to his advantage. The pleasure only made his voice sound even sexier, which he could use given what he was describing. "Oh, John. Remember all those times you said you'd wake me up with my prick in your mouth? That's exactly what I intend to do to you. I'll have you on your back, cuffed and moaning. But not for long. I'll get you so close, John, you'll be so close and then I'll stop. Fuck! I have so many things to show you John, so many places that I know no one has ever touched. I'll drive you mad. I might even make you cum without touching your cock. I'll make you beg for it!"

He heard John behind him, panting even though he wasn't being touched. It was obvious that his words were effecting him. "I can hear your breathing, I know you li-" He was cut off by his own desperate cry. His body writhed as John's fingers suddenly shifted to press down onto his prostate. His hips jerked forward as if to escape the sudden pleasure, but John used his free hand to pull his hips back while his fingers massaged the spot.

Sherlock's hands gripped the sheets and he wailed. His hips rolled back to grind onto John's fingers. His mind went blank and all he could do was cry and try to get more. The fingers were slow, but pressed down hard, giving a deep massage. He was nearly sobbing from how good it felt.

John was radiating with pride. He almost couldn’t believe how he managed to get his lover like this. He never thought he’d see Sherlock so wrapped up in pleasure. He was so grounded, forced out of his head and trapped in his body. For once, he couldn’t avoid or escape the world around him. He was there, completely present, and it felt good. John had never been so thrilled.

Those hips tried moving faster and harder, demanding that the pleasure be ground even deeper into his prostate. He tossed his head back and let out a string of curses as his movements also allowed his cock to grind against the pillow. He knew he was leaking onto it and would probably leave it with a nice stain. But he didn’t care.

His thighs were trembling as pleasure radiated from his core, spreading out to the rest of his body. All he could focus on was how good he felt. Nothing else mattered. For a moment, his mind palace was closed off and distance, in a place that he couldn’t reach with those fingers inside of him.

Moans and whimpers were forgotten as deep wails and long cries for pleasure exhausted Sherlock’s normally quiet voice. The sounds made John throb as he realized just how hard he really was.

He lifted his hips off the pillow and used his knees to brace himself. The new angle let John’s fingers slide in a bit deeper to press harder against the spot. It also allowed Sherlock’s cock to easily glide across the pillow, giving him a bit of friction to soothe his aching hardness.

John had never heard Sherlock curse like this. He was practically chanting the word “fuck”, but when the word changed to John’s name, he nearly came in his pants. A rush of arousal overcame him as Sherlock repeated his name, as if it was the only word he could remember. His tone was so desperate, baritone and heavy with desire. He wanted more, he wanted to cum, but he couldn’t find the words to ask for it.

Sherlock’s eyes widened as he felt something very distant, resting just along the borders of his body. Something light, something exciting, a pure ball of pleasure. He could feel his orgasm sitting just beyond his reach. He writhed and moved his hips as quickly as he could, sobbing in relief as he felt John’s fingers finally speed up to match his pace. The rubbed hard and fast circles into the spot, making Sherlock’s lower half radiate with pleasure.

He felt like he was finally getting what he needed. He clawed at the sheets and made a slew of ridiculous faces. Happiness, concentration, disgust, desire, and at one point he just laid there keening with a slack jaw.

John bit his lip and basked in the sounds that came from his boyfriend. Each one was something pulled straight out of John’s midnight fantasies. He couldn’t believe he had Sherlock writhing around like this, moving his hips in such a lewd way, chasing his pleasure. He noticed how Sherlock’s balls were beginning to tighten and he grinned. Sherlock was close. He intended to overcome the man with pleasure.

A hand reached around and grabbed onto the base of Sherlock’s cock, slowly moving, tugging at a neglected part of him.

Sherlock let out a shout and froze a moment, trembling as he was overwhelmed from the front and back of his waist. His entire lower-half was caught in the pleasure. He moved in a frenzy, trying to grind onto John’s fingers and buck into his hand. It took him a moment of awkward movements before he finally found a rhythm.

Whatever had been sitting just beyond his body was so much closer now. He could feel it slowly coming onto him. He cried as everything felt so much more intense than before. “Cum! John! I’m going to cum!” He nearly screamed the words. He frantically incanted John’s name.

John shifted a bit and made sure to keep his fingers pressed hard on Sherlock’s prostate as he moved his fingers as fast as he could, rubbing in little circles. His other hand tightened a bit and he jerked Sherlock off as quickly as he could without losing the rhythm of his other hand. He used his thumb to tease the head of Sherlock’s cock, swirling his thumb around the tip to spread the precum that dripped out of him.

“You’re bloody leaking, Sherlock.” He commented, moving to lean across his boyfriend’s body. He set his lips right by Sherlock’s ear as he spoke. “Are you gonna cum for me, Sherlock? You’re so beautiful and you sound so gorgeous. You said that I feel like home. I’ll be your home, Sherlock. Show me how good I make you feel.” He knew that right now, Sherlock didn’t need the filthy words that sat on the tip of his tongue. He needed something nicer, something loving. He needed a home. He pressed himself against Sherlock and kissed his cheek. “So perfect, you’re doing so well.”

Sherlock was in awe at the things he heard. His heart swelled and he twisted in pleasure. But with the kiss of the cheek, so sweet and innocent, he was pushed off the edge.

He threw his head back and let out a howl. In that moment, he was so human and raw. One hand gripped the top of the headboard and the other a pillow, he looked as if he were trying to crawl away from the pleasure. But his legs were too useless to assist in the escape, and his hips were too determined to ride it out. He practically rode John’s hands through his orgasm, chasing the feeling the entire time.

His howl broke off into shaking whimpers of John’s name, his hips slowed and the quivers overcame him as he slowly succumbed to the end of his orgasm. His forehead dropped to meet the bed and John’s hands eased up significantly.

The feeling slowly faded and John’s hands retreated as Sherlock’s body came falling onto the bed.

He closed his eyes and felt like he was only moments away from falling asleep.

John disrupted his relaxed state by pulling him close and getting him off the stained pillow, which he tossed aside. He held Sherlock’s panting body as the shakes slowly subsided. When Sherlock was relaxed in his arms, he stroked his lower back and planted a kiss onto his forehead. “How was that?”

Instead of responding with words, Sherlock let out a soft groan.

John chuckled and kept him close as they laid on the bed, practically laying the man across his chest.

“You didn’t cum.” Sherlock mumbled into John’s shirt. He tried to sit up so he could work on remedying the issue, but his muscles weren’t ready and struggled to get him up.

John stopped him and pulled him close again. “Come on, I know that was intense for you. Rest, love.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and used John’s chest as a pillow, slowly falling asleep in the arms of the man he loves.

Once he was asleep, John very carefully undressed himself. He got himself down to his boxers and decided a midday nap wouldn’t hurt, so he slept alongside Sherlock.

His sleep was peaceful and time seemed to melt away. He stayed curled up in bed, holding his boyfriend close and forgetting about his own arousal.

After a few hours, John’s arousal was starting to become a problem. He shifted in his sleep and let out soft noises, hardly aware of the outside world. He moved once again, this time willing an arm to go down and touch himself, but he was met with resistance. The resistance jolted him awake.

His eyes opened and a moan involuntarily ripped from his throat. He looked down to see he was over halfway inside Sherlock’s mouth. He whined his lover’s name and pulled at his hands, looking up to see they were cuffed to the bed. “I can’t believe you’ve actually done this!”

Sherlock attempted to smirk around the prick in his mouth, sliding down a bit deeper before pulling away with an impish grin. His hand tugged at John while he spoke, “I’m a man of my word.” His tone was wrecked from his orgasm and from sucking John.

His eyes rolled back when Sherlock’s thumb moved to rub his tip, making a shiver rush through his body.

“This was a nice little touch when you made me cum, John. You know I don’t really masturbate, so I never thought to explore. Not even to pay attention to my tip. But now I see it’s quite sensitive.” He commented as he continued to rub John’s.

John let out a whine and turned his head to the side, his body twisting as he attempted to lift his hips up.

A low chuckle came from Sherlock as he leaned back down and took John into his warm and wet mouth again.

John groaned and took a moment to try to assess the situation. He tugged at his hands again and found they weren’t going anywhere from their place, crossed over his head. That sent an unfamiliar wave of arousal through him. He loved that he couldn’t do anything about what was happening. He also realized that he was already a little over halfway there.

He wanted so badly to rock his hips but he didn’t want to choke Sherlock. Instead, he kept them pressed to the mattress and twisted them a bit, that was all he could do for now. He let out a whine and tried to move his hands again. “Fuck, I still can’t believe this.”

Sherlock chuckled around his length and John yelped at the vibrations, his hips involuntarily bucking. He raised an eyebrow and hummed intentionally. This time, John writhed and he got a bit louder. “Don’t fucking do that, it’s embarrassing.”

Sherlock didn’t care and hummed away as he suckled at John’s length, managing to get it even deeper inside of himself.

A groan ripped from his lips as he was almost completely swallowed into Sherlock’s warm mouth. “Sherlock, you’re killing me.”

The statement emboldened Sherlock to do even more. He pulled away once more and replaced his mouth with his hand. “Have you ever heard of your perineum?”

John’s eyes widened at the statement. “I’m a doctor, of course I have.” The perineum, better known as the taint, was an easy way to massage the prostate from the outside, if you would find the right angle. “Don’t you dare.” He also knew that many men could cum from that alone.

“John, I am no top, nor am I a bottom. I switch, and you’re going to have to learn to as well.” He pressed two fingers just above John’s entrance. He slowly massaged, rubbing around the area to find the right spot.

“You said you would only do this if I didn’t give you what you needed, and I did, I made you cum!” He writhed as he was jerked a bit harder and faster than he would normally touch himself. He whined and tried to cope with the feelings, until something sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through his body. His back arched and he threw his head back.

“Found it.”

He could hear the grin in Sherlock’s voice. He whimpered as he was slowly taken back inside of Sherlock’s mouth. It was the warm relief he needed. But his hips bucked when those fingers rubbed him again. “I’m sorry, fuck I’m sorry.” He said as he looked down to make sure he hadn’t bucked too much and choked Sherlock.

The man managed to stretch his lips into a smile and he shook his head, letting John know he was fine. He bobbed his head, working his way down in an attempt to take in all of John. His fingers slowly moved again.

John called out and twisted his hips, not wanting to give in and grind down. His face flushed as he realized that he wanted to grind. He wanted the touch to feel deeper. It felt good and he liked it. Once he accepted that, he finally let his hips roll down. A chuckle vibrated through his lower half and he gasped, “Shut the hell up.”

He ground down and let himself enjoy it. His moans got a bit more frantic than before as he was pleasured from two different places. His hips were overwhelmed with the feelings, but he couldn’t stop moving. His hips began moving in circles, rubbing himself against those fingers. His head tilted back and the muscles that peaked out of his stretched torso began to tremble.

Sherlock noticed the tremble and swelled with pride. John was getting close. He watched how frantic and desperate his boyfriend had become and he knew it was all because of him. He bobbed his head and worked his tongue, licking across John’s skin as he sucked away.

John groaned and squirmed a bit. He knew he was getting close and he was excited. Though he was asleep for most of his pleasure, he wanted the end to be worth it. He ground down harder and let out a soft cry at how much better it felt. His eyes rolled back and his lips parted as a series of unfiltered noises fell from his lips. There was an occasional curse, Sherlock’s name, and an overwhelming amount of unintelligible noise. He wasn’t able to talk through his pleasure as well as Sherlock could, rather, he laid and became it’s prey.

His inner thighs shook at the oncoming pleasure. He could feel how close it was. He needed it. He swirled his hips as quickly as he could and tugged at his hands yet again. He loved the way Sherlock touched him. He let out a growl as he felt his end inching closer. He went into a frenzy as rubbed himself into Sherlock’s fingers and mouth.

If Sherlock could, he’d be grinning. He watched John fall apart and listened to the most beautiful growl. He’d taken the doctor and turned him into an animal. He groaned against the man’s cock, and watched him shiver from the vibrations. He took him in deeper and finally pressed his lips to John’s base. He swallowed around John and listened to the man nearly shout as every inch of him was sucked.

It became far too much for John. Sherlock’s mouth was far too warm, there was too much suction, too many vibrations, and his fingers were too rough. His body fell apart. He threw his head back and grunted with every heaving exhale. His grunts became faster, a little chant to match the pace of his hips. He drew a final breath, and with a cry, it all came crashing down.

Rather than stretching out and riding out the pleasure like Sherlock did, John’s body had a very different reaction. He tugged at his arms and writhed around. Amongst his cries it was almost as if he was trying to escape the pleasure.

Sherlock knew what he needed. He pressed his free hand to John’s lower belly, pinning him down and pulling his head back to suckle at John’s tip. His fingers slowed to a gentle massage and he made John ride out the pleasure.

His cries strengthened and turned into a broken shout. Mewls followed as his body gave in to Sherlock’s touches and trembled. He sobbed out his little noises, desperately trying to cope through his orgasm. He felt the last of himself spill into Sherlock’s mouth and whimpered when his lover pulled away.

Sherlock was grinning like a cat who’d caught a mouse. “You mewl when you cum. You also shouted.” He commented. “It was adorable.” He teased as he crawled up John’s body to free him. His voice was wrecked from sucking John. It was as deep and sensual as ever, but it had a raspy edge that showed how it was slightly strained.

“Yea? Well you howl. Like a dog.” John’s own voice was weak from how loud he’d been. “I can’t believe you just made me a bottom.” He sat up after he was finally uncuffed from the bed.

“Temporarily.” Sherlock corrected.

“I can’t believe you made me spend half the day in bed.” He said as he looked at the time and realized they’d just missed lunch.

“This won’t be the only time I keep you in bed for most of the day. I’ll order takeaway.” He offered as he put the cuffs away and sat by John.

He grinned and moved closer, wrapping his arms around the man he loves. “I love you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock blushed and cracked a small smile. “I love you too, John.”


End file.
